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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28491273">Five</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/BroadwayBaggins/pseuds/BroadwayBaggins'>BroadwayBaggins</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Frozen (Disney Movies), Little Women (2019), Little Women Series - Louisa May Alcott, Mercy Street (TV), Miss Scarlet and the Duke (TV 2020), Timeless (TV 2016)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>5 Sentence Fiction, F/M, First sentence fic prompts, Flash Fiction, Gen, Original Characters - Freeform, Tumblr Prompts</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 16:47:39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,796</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28491273</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/BroadwayBaggins/pseuds/BroadwayBaggins</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Vignettes written from first-sentence fic prompts submitted on tumblr. Multiple pairings and fandoms.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="">
  <p>It was too late for a toast, so she drank the glass down to the dregs and wished she had it within her to throw the flute and watch it shatter. She hated New Years Eve even in the best of years--it was a holiday built on impossible expectations that no one could ever live up to, and the only inevitability of the night was disappointment and probably a hangover. But now, having to organize a zoom hangout for her family, watching as Daisy and Demi blew plastic noisemakers over and over even though it was hours from midnight, her parents’ spotty wifi connection going in and out, and Amy and Laurie raising glasses of French champagne that probably cost more than Jo made in a week as a freelancer--it was all getting to be too much. For a terrible moment, she wanted to reach forward and slam the laptop shut, cutting her family off completely (she could make up an excuse later).</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>But then, Jo felt warm fingers grasp her own icy ones, and she turned to see Friedrich bring her hand to his lips. “It will be all right, Jo,” he promised softly. “You’ll see.”</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Frederick pushed the package across the table towards her, almost shyly, and she thought it must have been what he looked like years ago, before the war perhaps, or before he knew hopes could be dashed so thoroughly.</p>
<p>“Oh, you didn’t have to--” Anne began, but he held up a hand to silence her, unable to hide his eager smile.</p>
<p>“I most certainly did have to. It’s Christmas, for heaven’s sake, and even if it wasn’t, you’ve brought Lou so much joy in the last year, Anne. Please, take it.”</p>
<p>He looked so hopeful that the rest of her protests died in her throat, and she carefully removed the red velvet ribbon and unwrapped the brown paper--paper that somehow smelled like him, tobacco smoke and mint--to reveal a box and, nestled carefully within it, a locket of the daintiest silver.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Frederick and Louisa (Lou) Morris can be found in A Mansion House Murder.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="">
  <p>"I hate to have to say it but I very firmly feel, Jimmy's not an asset to Camp Green Wood."</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Her words hung heavy the air, but there was no way for Jane Green to take them back. She squared her jaw and looked her husband in the eye, as if daring him to contradict her. “He’s my son, and I love him--”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Of course,” James said evenly.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“But we need to face the facts, James. Surely there are other jobs--other places where Jimmy’s talents might be better suited?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“We need Jimmy here,” James said before Jane could continue. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. The answer is no.”</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div class="">
  <p>She fiddled with the gold bracelet at her wrist, wishing it were a watch. But then again, a watch would remind her exactly how much time they had wasted sitting there waiting, so perhaps the useless ornamental jewelry was a better choice. It was far more historically accurate than anything Lucy had suggested, at any rate.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I feel the need to remind you,” said a soft voice in her ear, “that this is a horrible plan.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“This was <em>your</em> plan, Flynn,” she reminded him, and he grinned.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“That is true.”</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div class="">
  <p>She had resolved to not roll her eyes again in his presence but his response so tested her she could feel her left eye twitching. She smoothed her hands on her skirt and forced a smile. “And why, may I ask, is that?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The diplomat before her practically preened with delight at being addressed by the sovereign, but when he spoke, his tone was laced with disdain. “I would think the answer is obvious, Your Majesty.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“It isn’t obvious to me,” Anna said sweetly, resolving in that moment to ask Elsa the next time she saw her how, for three years, she had managed to speak civilly to these pompous nobles without wanting to tear her hair out. “Please explain again why we shouldn’t offer aid to our poorest citizens if they are in need of it?”</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Surprises</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Jed has a surprise for Mary.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div class="">
  <p>He was hiding something.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>There was a look on his face that Mary couldn’t name, and he was hiding something behind his back in a way that reminded Mary of how she would try to sneak rescued kittens and other animals into the house right under her mother’s nose. “Jed?” she asked, her tone a mix between confusion and amusement. “What in heaven’s name are you doing? I have to say you’re making me nervous.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What? Damn it, sorry. I...I haven’t done this in a while. E--Eliza always said I was hopeless at this sort of thing.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Mary’s eyebrows arched. “What sort of thing?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>In lieu of answering, Jed thrust a bouquet of hothouse flowers at her, the arrangement bursting with roses in every shade of pink and red, dotted through with baby’s breath. “Romantic things. Happy Valentine’s Day, my love.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“They’re beautiful,” Mary said, taking the bouquet gently. She smiled indulgently at him and added, “Although I have to admit, roses aren’t my favorite.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>His face fell, but she reached out and cupped his cheek, kissing his lips softly. “But that’s all right,” she whispered. “You’ll have plenty of time to learn all of my favorites, Jed.”</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. la belle rose</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In a tiny apartment in Montmartre, Henry tries to forget.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div class="">
  <p>Her lips were the color of roses against the snow, and they curled with amusement when she corrected his French. She smelled of lavender and charcoal from her drawing pencils, and her hair fell through his fingers like silk when he ran his hands through it. She called him <em>Henri, </em>and he called her many things, <em>l’amour</em> and <em>magnifique</em> and <em>belle, </em>whispered in her ear as they lay together on the straw mattress in his tiny rented room in Montmartre. He kissed her throat and tried not to think of how different it had felt when he had kissed Emma, a lifetime ago on the shores of the river.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Henri,” she gasped into his ear, her nails gently raking down his bare back. He closed his eyes against the pain, but welcomed it all the same.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Lisette,” he answered, but in his mind it was only Emma, Emma, <em>Emma.</em></p>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>To quote sagiow, Henriette lives! </p><p>Fericita, I'm sorry but also not really sorry ;)</p><p>Title means "the beautiful rose"</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div class="">
  <p>Moonlight was less becoming than she'd expected. The pale blue silk she had selected for her gown, that had looked so perfect in the shop, shimmered differently in this light and made her look washed out and sickly. The hairstyle that she and Annette had chosen so painstakingly now seemed to hang limp against her shoulder, and Amy bit her lip against the onslaught of tears that threatened.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You look beautiful,” her husband whispered in her ear, but then he always said that, and she never knew whether or not she could trust his opinion on these matters. “You’ll outshine everyone else here.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>But Amy Vaughn, <em>née</em> March, knew in her heart that was not true. Her suspicions were confirmed when the door to the Laurence house opened, bringing with it a roar of laughter. The first thing she saw was Laurie with Jo’s hands in his, spinning her around like a child as the small crowd cheered them on. Jo’s face was lit up like Fourth of July fireworks, and Laurie was looking at her like she hung the moon, and Amy had to look away.</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Henry hated Paris, but his wife adored it.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="">
  <p>Henry hated Paris.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He hated the crowds, the awkward, bumbling way he spoke in French and the way he felt like the locals were silently judging and berating him every time he opened his mouth. He hated the endless gray skies (did the sun ever shine here, he wondered) and even the winding boulevards that everyone else spoke so highly of. He hadn’t even wanted to come here, not really, but he had been invited to speak at a theology conference and he wasn’t really in a position to turn down such an opportunity. The children had jumped at the chance to spend a few weeks with their Aunt Mary and Uncle Jed in Boston, and when he’d told his wife the news, he knew he wasn’t about to say no to the delighted look on her face.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The best thing about Paris, he had to admit, was the way Emma thrived there. She loved the people, the streets, the food, even the weather. And one evening as they strolled along the Seine, the hulking shadow of Notre Dame visible before them, and Emma asked if he’d ever seen anything more beautiful in all his life, Henry had answered no before bringing her close to him and kissing her right there on the street, not caring who saw them or what they thought.</p>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I HAD to do a bit of a mea culpa to fericita for Henriette, so I hope she approves of this!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A gift given in gratitude is shared.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div class="">
  <p>The box was small and pink, stuffed to the brim with French bon-bons and presented to Anne by a blushing, grateful patient. “I had my sister pick them out,” he murmured as he pressed the box into Anne’s hand. “I hope you like them. Thank--thank you for everything, Nurse Hastings.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Later, the box was half-empty, balanced precariously on the bedsheets between Anne and Byron. Anne made no attempt to cover herself as she reached for another, smacking Byron’s hand out of the way. “Mine,” she scolded. “You’re lucky I’m even sharing them with you.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Should I be jealous of the young chap who gave them to you?” Byron asked, arching an eyebrow.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Anne rolled her eyes. “He was little more than a child. A child with a crush. If you don’t know how I feel about you by now, Byron, then I believe we’re both wasting our time.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Mmmm...perhaps you need to convince me again,” Byron mused, and Anne grinned as she moved to straddle his hips, the chocolates all but forgotten.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>(He got her another box the next day)</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div class="">
  <p>“I wasn’t expecting it to be so cold,” William grumbled. He stomped his feet in a feeble attempt to warm them and stuffed his hands deeper into the pocket of his coat. A wretched cold snap had settled upon London and the absolute last thing he wanted to be doing right now was standing out in the frigid air with Eliza, watching as she attempted to pick a lock--an action he shouldn’t even be condoning, much less being an active participant in.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Eliza, can we please go now?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Damn,” she muttered, ignoring him completely. “The lock must be frozen...I’ve almost got it...”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Eliza, if we stay out here a moment longer, <em>I</em> am going to be frozen. Can we please, for the love of all things holy, abandon this ridiculous venture and go inside?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She ignored him again, and he groaned. “Eliza, it’s bloody freezing!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>There was a click, and Eliza let out a cry of triumph as she swung the door open. She flashed him a gleeful smirk. “Tell me, William, do you <em>ever s</em>top complaining?”</p>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><div class="children module" id="children">
  <b class="heading">Works inspired by this one:</b>
  <ul>
    <li>
        <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29511456">When good Americans die, they go to Paris</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/middlemarch/pseuds/middlemarch">middlemarch</a>
    </li>
  </ul>
</div></div></div>
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